A Castiel Carol
by The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien
Summary: Castiel has done countless unforgivable things to win his wore. He does not believe that he deserves one more chance. Can spirits of his past prove him wrong? More importantly, can he make up for the mistakes he's made to gain control of Heaven?
1. The First Ghosts

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I. Can't Wait! for the next episode of 'Supernatural'! Wow! I'm hoping to wrap this story up shortly as it won't have that many chapters and the next chappie of 'And Fi Makes Three' is in the works.

STORY SUMMARY: Castiel gets the 'Christmas Carol' treatment but he doesn't believe that he deserved the second chance he's been given. But even when he learns the cost of his actions, is it too late to do anything about it?

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><p>SUPERNATURAL: A Castiel Carol<p>

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><p>It was a myth that angels never sleep.<p>

Not necessarily sleep the way humans think of, but rather a deep meditative state in which angels allow their grace to recharge.

It had been a long time since Castiel had been in this state but not only was that because of the civil war in Heaven, but because he was unable to quiet his mind sufficiently to achieve it.

It was in his desperation to gain some rest that Castiel resorted to imbibing copious quantities of alcohol one night.

Whiskey was first, followed by scotch, and lastly was bourbon—Cas had learned last time that vodka and gin were to be avoided.

But to his surprise, Castiel didn't find himself in his usual meditative state after his over indulgence.

Rather, he was sitting in an old roadhouse at a bar along with three people he knew to be dead.

Mary Winchester looked annoyed and she kept shooting glares at Castiel and her father, Samuel Campbell, who looked a bit like a whipped dog as he sat with his daughter and son-in-law.

Only John Winchester gave the angel something approaching a sympathetic look.

"What am I doing here?" Castiel asked, thoroughly confused.

"You're here because we need to talk," Mary replied, shortly.

"_You_ need to talk to him," Samuel corrected, gruffly. "I've got nothing to say to him."

Mary glared at her father and replied, "You and Castiel are two peas in a pod."

"Neither of us are vegetables," Castiel pointed out, obviously.

Mary frowned at that and she looked stubbornly from her father to the angel who was supposed to be watching over her sons. "No, but you might as well be for all that you listen to others."

"Hey, you made a deal with a demon, too," Samuel snapped, pointing out his daughter's error in judgment.

"And so did I," John threw in, defending his wife. "As did Dean. But _we_ did it to save our family. You just wanted Mary back."

Feeling even more perplexed, Castiel asked, "What does this have to do with me?"

Mary held out her right arm and pushed up the sleeve of the shirt she wore. On her forearm was a dark, red mark, like a brand. It looked like the links of a chain. "You have one, too," she said, nodding at Castiel's arm. "It's the mark of one who's made a deal with demons."

Castiel stood, taking a step back as he saw the identical brands on John and Samuel's arms. Without even looking at his own arm, he could feel the mark burning as if someone was standing right next to him, pressing a red-hot brand to his skin. But slowly, he pushed up his sleeves, and after a long hesitation, he looked down at his own mark, noticing that it wasn't nearly as prominent as the others'.

"It's not as strong because you haven't lost everything yet," John explained. "You can still save yourself."

"Save myself from what?" Castiel snapped, not sure what all this was about.

"John sold his soul and went to Hell," Samuel said, feeling a bit pissed off that this angel still wasn't getting it. "Mary lost her life because of the deal she made. Me? My own grandson killed me because he didn't trust me." Frowning, he added, "I made mistakes with Sam and Dean. I know that. If I'd treated them more like family, maybe…"

"I think it is safe to say that it is too late for that," Castiel pointed out.

"But it's not too late for you," Samuel pressed. "Those boys think of you as a friend. And I know you think of them the same way."

"It's too late," Castiel sighed, his resolve fading.

"No, it's not," John said, encouragingly. "You can stop this and still win your war."

But Castiel didn't believe it. There was a list as long as his true form of the unforgivable things he'd done. He'd betrayed Sam and Dean's trust nearly a dozen times and he'd lied to them about his activities. How? How in this world—in Heaven—could he possible have yet another chance?

"You'll be visited by three spirits," Mary went on. "To show you your past, present, and future. Listen to them. Learn the lessons they teach you."

Castiel said nothing at John and Mary Winchester vanished along with Samuel Campbell.

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><p>AN: Spoiler for the season finale in Entertainment Weekly magazine! If you want to know, ask.


	2. The Ghost of the Past

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The brief scene with Bobby may be out of place now, but it will make more sense next chapter. And anyone want to take a guess at who the other 'Ghosts' are in this story? There's still the Present and Future to be considered.

Chapter 2

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><p>Bobby Singer had buried himself in demonic lore to escape the sounds of Sam and Dean Winchester fighting in the yard a few hours ago and from what he could tell, neither brother was giving in any time soon.<p>

Sam was starting to believe that Castiel was working with the demon, Crowley, in order to win the war against Raphael.

Dean didn't want to believe that the angel would go that far.

And Bobby… well, these days he wasn't sure _what_ to believe. But he knew what his gut told him, and right now it was saying that Castiel was holding back about something—maybe everything. With a sigh, he closed up his books and stood up, feeling his knees creak and pop loudly.

Going into the kitchen, Bobby reloaded the coffee maker and started brewing a fresh pot before going to the main phone and calling in pizza for himself and the boys when the finally came back in.

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><p>After the vision of the Harvelle Roadhouse during his meditative recharge, Castiel visited the spot where the bar had once stood. The wreckage had long ago been cleared away but someone—the Winchesters, perhaps?—had put up a wooden sign which read: 'Former site of the Harvelle Roadhouse, home of Ellen and Jo Harvelle and Ash. May they rest in peace'.<p>

Reaching out with his grace, Castiel put his hand on the aging sign and it suddenly looked brand new, wild flowers suddenly growing at the base.

"It's a nice gesture, Castiel," Anna said as she joined her brother angel.

"You are not real," Castiel said, more to himself than to Anna. He couldn't bring himself to look at her as he heard the comfort in her voice.

"I'm real enough," Anna said, walking past Castiel. Turning to face him, she closed her eyes a moment, and suddenly the two had gone back in time, watching an old minivan pull up to the bar and a younger Sam and Dean Winchester getting out and looking around before going inside the Roadhouse.

"What are we doing here?" Castiel asked, not sure why he was looking at this particular moment.

"Because this is the moment the angels started keeping closer tabs on Sam and Dean," Anna replied as she and Castiel appeared inside the bar. Looking over at her brother, she added, "Especially you." When the other angel gave her a puzzled look, she shrugged and turned back to the Winchesters as they met Jo and Ellen Harvelle. "You saw something here, Cas. You saw real brothers. And you wanted that. You still do."

The bar vanished, replaced by Bobby Singer's house.

Castiel watched Dean get beaten by Sam who was possessed by the demon, Meg. "Why wouldn't Dean kill Sam?" Castiel asked.

"John Winchester made Dean promise to kill Sam… only if Dean couldn't save his brother," Anna explained, looking at Castiel. "Dean will always be there to save his brother."

'_Who will be there to save me?'_ Castiel asked himself as the scene changed yet again. This time, the air was thick with the screams of tortured souls. He saw himself battling demon after demons, reaching out a hand to a figure with a razor, the blade dripping with blood.

The figure turned, a once debonair yet careless face now cold with vengeance.

The past Castiel gripped Dean Winchester by the upper arm and suddenly the two vanished from Hell.

Standing with Anna, Castiel watched Dean climb from his grave, gasping as he breathed fresh air.

"You reached Dean first," Anna said, watching the scene unfold. "You tried to communicate with him first. You fought harder than any other angel."

"Because I saw myself in him," Castiel said, quietly. It was true. He'd seen Dean and what the young man was willing to endure for the sake of family and Castiel wanted to feel that way, too. He loved his fellow angels, God, and all of his Father's creations. But few of them felt the same way and Castiel was troubled by that endlessly.

Until the Winchesters.

Cas remembered Anna begging him to stop Dean from torturing Alastair and a question rose in his mind. Looking at Anna, he asked, "What I've done… is this what you meant when you said I might be losing the only real weapon I had?"

"Yes," Anna replied, sadly. "It's not the _number_ of souls that matters, Castiel. But how strong the individual soul is."

For a while, Castiel wordlessly let Anna guide him through more and more of his memories. He watched himself working with Dean, trying to live with limited powers. He knew what Anna was trying to show him: that he'd become what he'd reviled back then. That he was now someone Sam and Dean would view as an enemy if they knew the truth.

Feeling lost in the despair, Castiel was only dimly aware of Anna putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What do I do, Anna?" Castiel, asked, praying that the deceased angel would be able to guide him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I can't tell you that, Cas," Anna replied, regretfully. "I wish I could. I wish I could help you."

"Then what are you doing here?" Castiel demanded. Why did no one have any answers? "What am I supposed to learn from all this?"

But Anna was patient as she gave him a smile. "You're here to learn what's really important," she replied, calmly. "What your true weapon really is."

Castiel wasn't sure what to say to that and when Anna vanished, he once again found himself alone and with no more knowledge about what to do than when he'd started.


	3. The Angel of the Present

AUTHOR'S NOTES: There's a bit of a time shift with this story to cover up for the winter hiatus. Just an FYI.

Chapter 3

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><p>Balthazar hadn't wanted to play 'Ghost of Christmas Present'. He always saw himself more fitted to 'Christmas Past'. The idea of the silent, hooded specter finally showing Scrooge the truth about where his current path would lead was oh, so appealing.<p>

However, Balthazar found himself understanding his current role as he found Castiel sitting in a bar, staring at the mirror behind, and studying his own reflection.

"You do realize that you're becoming more and more like him, don't you?" Balthazar asked, looking over at his brother while a buxom bartender poured both angels shots. "Pretty soon, you'll be driving a classic car instead of flying and developing a taste for classic rock music. Although if that means you stop wearing that trenchcoat, then perhaps that's a good thing."

"What do you want, Balthazar?" Castiel asked, turning his piercing blue eyes to his brother.

"I'm what you might call the 'Ghost of Christmas Present," Balthazar replied, sipping his drink.

"It's March," Castiel corrected.

"Dickens?" the older angel asked, with a lift of the eyebrows. "'A Christmas Carol'? Ring a bell?"

"Why you?" Castiel asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Because whatever stupid things you've done, whatever mistakes you've made, you are still my brother," Balthazar stated, simply. Tossing back the rest of his drink, he shrugged. "Hmm. And need I remind you that Dean Winchester has stood by his brother through demon blood _and_ starting the Apocalypse."

"I have done considerably worse things than Sam," Castiel pointed out.

"And no one is disputing that point," Balthazar replied. "All I'm saying is that you are my brother, Castiel. And apparently I'm one of the few angels in Heaven who will stand by you even though you're—I believe Dean would use the phrase—a 'dick'." Standing up, he and Castiel were immediately transported to the home of Bobby Singer.

"There you are," Bobby snapped as he came into the library, glaring at the angel. "Been calling you non-stop for the past hour, ya idjit."

Castiel was surprised to see that he was now alone and he turned to Bobby whose brow was lifted in a questioning look. "My apologies," Castiel muttered.

Bobby studied the angel for a moment before going to his desk and pulling out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. After pouring two hefty shots, he handed one to Castiel. "I fought in Vietnam when I was younger," Bobby began, setting the bottle down before picking up his glass. "I did things that still haunt me—sometimes even worse than what I've done as a hunter." Fixing the angel with a look, he went on. "And I remember when I saw Sam when he was on the demon blood. You're going down a dark road, Castiel."

Castiel looked up sharply at the comparison. He started to open his mouth to speak but he couldn't find the words to explain what he'd done.

But Bobby understood. "I ain't sayin' I approve of what you're doing," he said, quickly, lest the angel draw the wrong conclusion. "I'm just saying I know what it's like being between a rock and a hard place. And I know about watching someone go down the wrong road."

"If I lose this war, we will be right back where we started," Castiel said, quickly. "And Sam's descent into the cage will have been for nothing."

"And what happens when someone kills you for what you've done?" Bobby asked, raising a point. "Then you're gone and Heaven'll probably be in even more chaos than before."

Castiel finished off his drink and before he could object, the older hunter had refilled the glass. "I'm sorry," Cas said, honestly.

"Don't be," Bobby said, shaking his head. "I'm not the one you have to apologize to."

"Sam and Dean," Castiel said, quietly.

Bobby just nodded wordlessly but before Cas could say anything else, he heard Dean calling him.

xxx

Appearing in a motel room, Castiel had barely taken a step before he found himself surrounded by holy fire. Looking past the flames, he saw Sam and Dean standing by one of the beds. Dean looked both hurt and pissed and Sam looked almost disappointed. "I can explain," Castiel began, although even he knew that his excuses and explanations were weak.

"Castiel, I am only going to ask you this once," Dean said, slowly. "Is it true? Is what Eve said true? Are you working with demons?"

"It's more complicated than that," Castiel said, wishing this was easier.

"Cas," Dean said, unable to stop a choke in his voice. "Look me in the eye and tell me you're not working with Crowley." But when the angel refused to even make eye contact, Dean felt his heart clench as he realized that it was all true. "What happened to you, man? You're supposed to be our friend, Cas!" Dean shouted, feeling hurt and angry. "What you're doing? We hunt things like you."

"Dean," Sam said, calmly.

"That was different, Sam," Dean snapped. "Okay? The-the demon blood, and the powers, that's one thing. You weren't using _innocent souls_ to win a war!"

Sam just sat down on the bed, silently watching Dean and Castiel.

"What happened, Cas?" Dean asked again, this time feeling tears in his eyes. "And to hell with the war, man. I believed in you. I had…" But he couldn't get out the word 'faith'. Because he didn't know if he even had it anymore. "It was bad enough that Sam lied to me, but you?"

"I was losing the war, Dean," Castiel began. "Raphael had the upper hand. But one of his angels accidently attacked an innocent soul. It decimated every angel within a 50 foot radius—angels on _my_ side _and_ his. I realized that the souls were my best chance at winning."

Dean ran a hand over his face. He didn't know what to do about all this. He knew what the costs were if Castiel lost the war, but looking at the angel now trapped in a ring of holy fire, he also saw Sam and heard his father's voice in his head. _"You have to save your brother. And if you can't… you have to kill him."_ But Sam was Dean's brother. His flesh and blood brother.

But Castiel had sacrificed himself twice for Sam and Dean. The angel had gone against Heaven and ventured into the very heart of Hell to rescue Dean. Blood didn't matter. As far as Dean was concerned, Castiel was also his brother. Dean knew what he had to do. He knew he had to stop Cas from going Dark Side, but just like with Sam, Dean couldn't do it.

"You have to stop me, Dean," Castiel said, finally meeting the hunter's eyes. "Please. Before I do something terrible."

"No," Dean said, firmly.

"Dean," Sam said, standing up. "We have to. We don't have a choice!"

"Yes, we do!" Dean shouted, looking from Sam to Castiel and back again. "Damnit, Sam, I didn't give up on you, and I'm not giving up on him!"

"Sam's right," Castiel pressed as he withdrew his blade and handed it to Dean. "Before I hurt anyone else."

"No," Dean insisted as he walked right up to the ring of fire. But before he could say anything else, he was sent flying across the room with one punch from Castiel. Lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, Dean saw Sam use his jacket sleeve to grab the archangel blade but before the younger Winchester could strike, Dean said, hoarsely, "Sam, no!"

Sam stopped, turning to Dean, incredulous. "Dean, what does Castiel have to make you see that he's dangerous?" Sam shouted. Had his brother lost his mind? Cas was turning into the very type of monster they hunted! The angel had to be stopped!

Dean slowly sat up. From what he could tell, he had a concussion a broken arm, at least 2 broken ribs. But looking at Sam and Castiel, he shook his head. "No, Sammy," Dean said, weakly. "Remember… what Dad said."

Sam dropped the blade and went to Dean's side as his brother lost consciousness.

"What did your father say to Dean?" Cas wanted to know. Scratch that—he _needed_ to know.

Sam was scrambling for the keys to the Impala so he could take Dean to the emergency room but he stopped and looked at Castiel, realizing what Dean meant. "Before he died, Dad told Dean to kill me." When Sam saw Castiel straighten up as though preparing himself for execution, he went on "But only if he couldn't save me."

Picking his brother up, Sam left the motel room and headed for the nearest hospital.

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><p>AN: Next up, the Ghost of Things Yet To Come. And it's the last person Castiel ever expected.


	4. The Ghost of Things Yet to Come

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a warning that this chapter is DARK and contains mentions of suicide. Nothing overly graphic, but I feel I should issue a warning just in case.

Also, if you haven't seen the news today: Osama bin Laden has finally been killed! I'd call that one for the 'win' comumn.

Chapter 4

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><p>It was nearly an hour before the holy fire died away and Castiel was able to leave the circle created on the motel room floor. But turning to the door to leave, he found his path blocked by Zachariah.<p>

"Wow, Castiel," Zachariah said, with a smile of surprise. "Of all the angels that could have ended up in this position, you are the _last _one I expected. I mean, really? Whatever happened to 'Team Free Will'? You, Sam, and Dean against the world with your plucky sidekick, Bobby Singer?"

"What are you doing here?" Castiel asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

All humor drained from Zachariah's face as he said, "I'm here to show you what will happen if you don't stop what you're doing."

Castiel soon found himself in a brightly lit hospital and looking at the date on a newspaper lying on a counter, he was surprised to see that he and Zachariah had only come 2 years into the future. "Where are we?" he asked, turning to the other angel.

"Mansfield Mental Hospital," Zachariah replied, leading Castiel down the hallways and finally stopping at a room. Inside, a man in his 30's lay in a hospital bed, intubated and his eyes wide and fearful. "Thought we'd stop by to see some old friends."

"Sam," Castiel said, horrified as he recognized the young hunter. "What happened to him?"

Zachariah shrugged as he walked over to the bed. "Well, a funny thing. You see shortly after you finally managed to kill Raphael and Crowley, the wall in Sam's head came down. And I mean, hard. At first Sam was just violent. Screaming all the time, lashing out at anyone who got near him. Now the doctors keep him locked in a paralytic state."

Castiel walked up to Sam, but when he tried to put a hand on his friend's shoulder, it went through as though Sam was a ghost. "What about Dean?"

As soon as the angel asked the question, he found himself in another room lined with heavy padding. There was only a mattress on the floor and a thin, dark-haired man sitting in a corner. When Cas heard the door of the padded cell open, he was a bit relieved to see Bobby Singer come in.

"Hey, Dean," Bobby said, tentatively as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"You see Sam?" Dean asked, as he slowly stood, keeping his distance from his friend.

"No change," Bobby replied, backing away quickly as Dean suddenly charged the opposite wall, pounding his fists against the padding, clawing at the layers covering the concrete walls as he let out one anguished scream after another.

Castiel couldn't say anything—he could only watch as Dean finally screamed himself hoarse and fell onto the mattress, reaching a hand underneath to slowly pull out a flannel shirt that he hugged tightly as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

"The last shirt Sam wore before ending up here," Zachariah explained, seeing Castiel's confused look. "At first, Dean was sure you could help. But you were too busy lording over Heaven to come down and visit the mere mortals and help your friends."

"And Dean?" Castiel asked, wondering what had happened that the young, strong hunter was now curled up on the bare mattress, sobbing as he held all that he had left of his brother.

"Bobby finally had Dean committed after the fifth suicide attempt," the older angel replied, frowning. "And for the first few months, Dean was kept under 24 hour watch and sedated. Bobby sold the salvage yard _and_ his house and the Impala to cover Sam and Dean's hospital expenses."

Hearing Dean whisper something, Castiel cautiously stepped closer, dropping to his knees when he heard Dean praying. "Dean," he tried, knowing that it was useless, but determined to try nonetheless.

"He can't hear you," Zachariah cautioned. "Even if he could, you wouldn't like the result."

Standing quickly, Castiel turned to face his former superior. "What are you talking about?" but when the other angel pointed to Dean's wrists and arms, Cas turned to look, gaping at the ragged scars on the man's arms.

"He tried to cut his wrists using just his nails," Zachariah said, wishing he didn't have to be the one to do this. He hadn't wanted this gig at all. But other forces had pressed him into it and he had no choice. "You tried to talk to Dean about a year ago and he went postal."

Castiel looked at his friend—his brother on Earth—and asked, "And what of me?"

The other angel gave him a cold smile and the two were winged to a field where a man with blonde hair stood, looking about expectantly.

To Castiel's surprise, he saw himself appear next to the man, looking even more ragged than ever.

"You shouldn't have come, Castiel," Balthazar warned, all warmth gone from his eyes. "You know the orders."

"You have to save Sam," future-Castiel implored, desperately. "Please. If I have done nothing else good here, at least help me do that."

"And why should I?" Balthazar snapped, angrily. "This was _your_ mess, Castiel. And once again you want everyone else to clean it up."

"I did what I had to do to win the war," future-Castiel pressed. "Sam's soul won it for us."

"Yes, and at the cost of the wall keeping his memories of Hell at bay," Balthazar countered. "You really should have spent more time with Sam," he added. "Because compared to what awaits _you_ in the cage, Sam's fate is a blessing."

"Then kill me yourself and be done with it!" future-Castiel shouted, angrily. "Prove to God that you are the better angel!"

Only then did the slightest trace of warmth touch Balthazar's eyes. "I would rather know that you're out there somewhere than know that you died by my hand. I can't do it, Cas. I never could, and you know it."

"You see, Castiel?" Zachariah said, as he watched future-Castiel vanish from the field. "You're hunted. The orders to _all_ angels are to capture you alive and throw you in the cage with Lucifer… That is, if they don't kill you first."

"What have I done?" Castiel said to himself, hearing the catch in his voice.

"What _haven't_ you done?" the other angel countered. "You've done every unconscionable thing in the book and you're surprised that this is how you end up? Really, Cas, I'm surprised. I always thought you were the smart one in the bunch."

Castiel felt the ground shake and the panic within him started to bubble over as the earth split between his feet. He started to fall, but clutched desperately for the deep-rooted weeds, clawing at the ground to keep from falling. Below, he saw the hellfire and heard the screams of the tortured souls, his heart turning to ice as he heard Michael's screams and Lucifer's laughter. "Please," he begged, looking frantically at Zachariah. "Help me!"

But Zachariah only gave a smile and a wave as Castiel's grip failed and he plunged into Hell, the fire burning him and blades slicing him as he landed in the cage. Looking upward, Castiel had one final glance at the earth above before the ground closed up, sealing him in Hell forever.


	5. God Bless Us, Everyone

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have to admit, I was waiting for the most recent episode before writing this chapter.

Also, threw in a small reference to 'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer'—one of two shows that remind me of 'Supernatural'.

As for Cas's archangel friend, I had to do a little research for the right angel. Raguel is the angel you'd call for creating harmony and resolving conflicts.

Chapter 5

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><p>Castiel came to some hours later, still hearing muffled screams. Slowly, his vision focused and he found himself, not in Hell, but lying on the floor of the operating theater of an abandoned hospital.<p>

"Wakey, wakey, partner," Crowley's smug voice said, brightly. "Thought you were going to sleep all week."

Castiel quickly got to his feet, looking around in amazement. No Hell… no fire… no cage. He was back on Earth. "I'm alive," he muttered under his breath.

"Good for you," Crowley said, wondering what was going on with his partner in crime. "Now maybe you can explain why—instead of us getting Eve to open the door to Purgatory—I now have to do a bloody autopsy to find out what makes her tick!"

"I'm ending our partnership," Castiel said, calmly.

Crowley said nothing for a moment and then laughed. "Good to see you've developed a sense of humor, Cas," he said, going back to work. "Maybe your time with the Winchesters is good for something after all. You know, other than totally screwing up our plans for Heaven _and_ Hell!" But before Crowley could say anything else, he found himself slammed against the wall, the angel's arm pressed against his throat. "Finally," Crowley said, quietly with a twisted smile. "I was wondering when you'd eventually see what you were really doing."

"Our contract is ended," Castiel said, firmly, increasing the pressure against the demon's neck.

"Do you really think it's that simple, Cas?" Crowley asked, looking rather amused. "It's not over. Not by a long shot. You need me to win your war."

"I will find another way," Castiel swore as he backed away from the demon.

But Crowley wasn't about to let the angel off the hook so quickly. "Like what? Your options are almost nonexistent. Your list of friends keeps getting shorter and shorter. You're in even more of a mess than before. How in the world are you going to win without me?" When Castiel looked away, Crowley straightened his suit and sighed. "Face it: You need my help. You've never wanted it, but instead of going to your friends first, you came to me. You've got nothing left. No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away… what's left?"

Castiel could feel the cold sting of the words, the truth they held. Crowley was right, of course. Without the King of Hell's aid the war would be won by Raphael and the apocalypse would be kicked off once more.

But if Castiel had learned anything from the Winchesters it was that all it took was one person to win the battle if they had the courage to stand up.

Gabriel had stood against his brother, knowing the odds were hopeless.

Castiel looked at Crowley, fresh determination and resolve in his eyes as he said, "There's still me."

Leaving the room, the angel found himself in a park nearby. There was still snow on the ground but the crocuses were in full bloom. Sitting on a stone bench, Castiel bowed his head and said, "I can't imagine you're happy with me right now, Father. The things I've done… the people I've hurt… If I could go back and change everything, I would." Looking up toward Heaven, he asked, "What do I do now? _Can_ I stop this? Can I get back all that I've lost?" He could hear the crack in his voice as he asked, "How do I make this right?"

Bowing his head again, he kept up the silent prayer, wondering if it was even reaching God.

"Big shoes to fill, aren't they?"

Castiel looked up and saw a woman standing before him. She wore blue jeans, a mottled brown shirt, and worn sneakers and her blonde hair hung about her shoulders, the faint sunlight almost making it glow like a halo about her head. "Raguel," Castiel said, quietly, watching the archangel sit down next to him and look at the flowers.

"I've always thought that the crocus should be the flower of angels," Raguel said with a smile. "No matter how bad the snow gets, no matter how cold the winter, they come back—fully renewed and welcoming to spring."

"Raphael sent you to kill me?" Castiel asked, not looking at the other angel.

"Raphael's… taken care of," Raguel assured him as she looked over the park. "You're safe."

Even though he wanted to know what that meant, Castiel said nothing. In his mind he wanted to know what happened now, but he also knew that the archangel sitting next to him wasn't really the 'giving orders' type.

"You've left me one hell of a mess to clean up," Raguel went on, looking over at Castiel. "Pardon the expression. But I'm working on settling things between the two factions. Joshua's helping as best he can, but God's not saying much." After a while, she added, "It makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Catching the younger angel's look, she nodded towards the park and clarified, "God. Everything that he has to control. Makes you understand why he never gave angels free will to begin with."

"What happens to me now?" Castiel asked, looking at the world his Father had created.

"You stick with the Winchesters," Raguel replied, simply. "You're still their guardian and you have a lot to atone for." Looking at her brother angel, she added, "But you're on probation. Any more contact with the other side and you _will_ be hunted."

Castiel nodded in understanding and before he could thank Raguel, she was gone.

xxxx

Winging to Bobby Singer's house, Castiel was disheartened to note that there were numerous Enochian sigils all over the windows. But noticing that some of the angel-proofing was incorrect, he was relieved when he found he could enter the house.

On the couch in the living room, he found Dean asleep and noticed with dismay that the hunter's right arm was in a cast and his left knee was wrapped and propped up on a worn pillow-the results of Castiel's assault earlier the previous day.

"How did you get in here?" Sam asked from a darkened corner.

Castiel turned to look at the younger Winchester before nodding at the windows. "The angel-proofing you put up on the house. You got a few things wrong."

"It's too bad we have to angel-proof in the first place, isn't it?" Sam replied, coldly. "What do you want?"

Castiel wondered if it was even worth coming here when he saw Sam's face, but knowing he had to try, he said, "I was the one who brought you back, Sam. I never meant to leave your soul. But I didn't have a choice."

Sam's fist clenched and only the knowledge that punching the angel would be useless kept him from swinging. "Why are you here?" Sam asked, thinking of the repelling sigil pained on the wall nearby.

"I want to give you… a peace offering," Castiel said, tentatively. When Sam looked reluctant to believe him, he said, "I can reinforce the wall, Sam. It would be impenetrable. You wouldn't have to worry about what might happen."

"Why should I trust you?" Sam asked, doubtfully. After everything the angel had done, how could any of them trust him?

"Because Dean still regards me as a brother," Castiel replied, simply. "Because of all the things I have lost in this war, our friendship is more valuable to me than anything else. You, Dean, and Bobby are the only true family I have."

But Sam didn't want to believe it. Everything in him was screaming that it was a trap. That Castiel was saying whatever he could think of to get back in the Winchesters' good graces. And yet, Sam could see something in Castiel's eyes—even in the dim light—that hadn't been there for a while. It was the strange look of longing that Sam had seen before when the angel first saw the Winchesters together.

"Angels… don't regard family the way you do," Castiel explained after a while. "We believe that too much emotion—too many ties to our fellow angels will…"

"You think you'll become like Lucifer," Sam finished, understanding what the angel meant.

Castiel nodded. "I was wrong, Sam. About everything."

"Cas, you can't just go with one big apology and think everything will be forgiven," Sam said, shortly. "It doesn't work like that." At Castiel's forlorn expression, he added, "Small steps, Cas. Give it time."

Castiel nodded and after being true to form and 'shoring up' the wall in Sam's mind, he did return to Heaven where he handed over the reins—so to speak—to Raguel.

Afterwards, he made frequent trips back and forth to aid the Winchesters and help rebuild Heaven.

He often wondered if God would ever forgive him for what he'd done in the war against Raphael.

But when Castiel thought of the Winchesters and Balthazar, he realized that it didn't matter what God thought.

Castiel's brothers had forgiven him. And that was good enough.


End file.
